in wet strands across the dark beach.
My last breaths come through my ears,
There is the desperate stillness of celluloid here,
the sky a hung screen.
At last the rain begins
and my eyes run with this black blood -
or just mascara.
I turn over and my hips scrape pits in the damp gravel.
I see you in the shadows, a dark shimmer, an unnatural lambency, an occlusion.
Are you coming towards me?
Or are you walking away?